Treehouse of Horror: Waiting to Go D'oh
by Dead Composer
Summary: Homer and Flanders are the last humans on Earth...
1. Chapter 1

This story is rated PG.

Disclaimer: I don't own The Simpsons.

----

It was a bright, sunny day in Springfield. C. Montgomery Burns didn't have the ability to make the weather match his moods, but he was working on it.

A new obstacle had surfaced in the 82-year-old wraith's path to power. He sat in his fine Corinthian leather chair, glaring with disgust at the headline in the Springfield Times: DR. FRINK DEMONSTRATES PERPETUAL ENERGY MACHINE. IS FREE ENERGY FOR ALL AROUND THE CORNER?

Burns cursed mightily under his breath. He couldn't imagine how the words "free energy" had made it onto the front page of a newspaper he owned (and he owned every newspaper in the city). The very notion was dangerous—if the people began to question why they had to pay for energy, protests would surely follow, then riots, perhaps even global war. It would be extremely bad for business.

"Smithers!" he shrieked in a voice that could peel the skin from a potato. No answer came.

"Smithers!" he cried again, but his chief administrator failed to appear.

He glanced down at his desk, where a page button had been installed in the right front corner. "Blasted technology," he groused, reluctantly pushing the button. "Why can't my subordinates simply stand around and wait to be called upon?"

The crew-cut, bespectacled Waylon Smithers appeared promptly. "You groused, sir?"

"Look at this, Smithers," said Burns, clutching the newspaper in front of his lackey's face.

"Hmm," said Smithers with interest. "The Malibu Stacy Collector's Convention has been moved to Shelbyville?"

"Not that, you imbecile," Burns snarled. "The headline. Read the headline!"

Smithers quickly scanned the large print, then put on a solemn face. "But, sir, perpetual energy is a physical impossibility. To achieve it, you'd have to somehow draw power from another universe."

"Then do it!" Burns bellowed. "Er, I mean, yes, you're quite right, Smithers. I'm sure I have nothing to fear from this crackpot Frink. But just in case…"

"Should I have him killed, sir?" Smithers suggested.

"Certainly not," said Burns, shaking his head. "At my age, if I were to stoop so low, I'd never get back up again." He drummed his fingers and smiled. "Steal his device, and have him brutally beaten with rolled-up sleeping bags."

"Rolled-up sleeping bags, sir?"

"Very well," said Burns impatiently. "Unroll them, if you can't stomach it."

"You'll have the device in your hands by 0900 tomorrow," Smithers promised.

"Eeeexcellent," gloated Burns.

----

At the Android's Dungeon Comics and Trading Cards store, Professor John Frink stood before the counter, holding a copy of Radioactive Man #1 in his hand.

"Ng'hey," he addressed the overweight, ponytailed proprietor. "I bought this comic book from you yesterday, but upon reading it, I found that it was defective. I'm returning it in good condition, and I believe I'm entitled to a full refund."

Comic Book Guy snatched the issue from his hand, and flipped through its pages dispassionately. "I see nothing wrong," he stated. "Why do you say it's defective?"

"The book itself isn't defective," said Frink. "However, the science inside of the book is invalid. Being exposed to a nuclear detonation turns you into a steaming pile of flesh, not a radioactive superbeing."

Comic Book Guy regarded the bushy-haired professor cynically. "I'll tell you what I'll do," he said, returning the book to Frink's hands. "Bring it back tomorrow, and I'll give you a replacement comic in which the scientific errors are corrected. It shall be called Steaming Pile of Flesh Man."

"That's very generous of you," said Frink with satisfaction. "Also, I suggest you check your other comics for similar errors. Many young people are inspired by comic books to become scientists, so it's important that they paint an accurate picture."

"I'll do so right away," Comic Book Guy pledged.

As his customer strolled away, the rotund collector plucked the latest issue of Futurama Comics from the rack, and opened it to a random page. "Geez, he's right," he marveled.

As Professor Frink pulled away from the curb in his hydrogen-powered convertible, a dark sedan driven by two burly men in black suits and sunglasses began to follow him.

Upon arriving in his secret laboratory at the State University of Springfield (motto: "In Pecunia Veritas"), Frink put away his comic book and entertained himself by playing with one of his recent inventions, bullseye-seeking darts. No matter how clumsily he threw one, it always made its way to the center of the dart board. "I'm in the zone," he congratulated himself.

A knock came at the door, and he answered it. "Welcome to my secret laboratory," he greeted the two muscular thugs. "Now that you've discovered it, I shall have to kill you. Won't you come in?"

Without warning, Crusher and Lowblow pulled sleeping bags from behind their backs and started to swat Frink repeatedly with them.

"Ow!" the professor complained. "What the glavin… That smarts!"

"We don't like it either," said Crusher, "but we have our orders."

"We want the perpetual energy device," said Lowblow. "Hand it over."

"Never!" cried Frink, trying uselessly to ward off the vinyl blows. "The device is extremely unstable. The slightest shock could open an interdimensional rift, allowing terrible and destructive forces from a parallel universe to pass into ours. For all we know, John Ashcroft may be the President there."

"This is getting us nowhere," Crusher remarked.

"Yeah," Lowblow agreed. "We shoulda used the down bags."

Shoving Frink aside, the two goons walked over to a metal table where a boxlike machine about the size of a personal computer lay. Numerous wires were attached to it, powering various surrounding devices—lamps, a microwave oven, stereo speakers. It had no visible connection to an electrical outlet.

"Stop!" Frink pleaded. "You fools! You'll disrupt the very fabric of time and fabric of very the disrupt you'll time and fools…"

It was too late—Crusher and Lowbrow had tried to lift the machine. As Frink watched in horror, both the perpetual energy device and the two would-be thieves winked out of existence in a flash of blinding emptiness.

At that moment, a station wagon was rolling down Evergreen Terrace. The driver, Homer Simpson, slammed on the brake upon seeing an amorphous cloud of shimmering light that covered most of the street.

"Stupid interdimensional rift," Homer grumbled, steering sharply to the left.

"Look out, Homer!" cried Marge from the passenger seat. In the back, Lisa and Bart gritted their teeth, and Maggie sucked more vigorously. Doom was approaching, in the form of an oncoming vehicle in the opposite traffic lane.

CRASH!

Alongside the mysterious glowing blob sat two shattered cars. Shocked and furious, Homer shoved his door open and leaped out, fists clenched. Upon arriving at the window of the other vehicle, he was startled to learn that the driver was none other than his neighbor, Ned Flanders.

He held on to his anger long enough to allow Ned to climb out; the man wore a smile as thick as his moustache. "You okay?" Homer asked calmly.

"Fit as a fid-diddly-iddle," was his neighbor's carefree reply. "And yourself?"

Homer looked over the crushed hood of his family's station wagon, then flew into a rage. "Stupid Flanders! Why don't you watch where you're driving? Who gave you your driver's license?"

"Why, it was your sisters-in-law, Patty and Selma," Ned replied with a chuckle.

"Stupid Patty and Selma!" Homer bellowed. "You're all in this together! You're out to get me! You want to make my life hell! HELL!"

As Marge was squeezing through the compacted passenger doorway, she was treated to a horrifying sight—Ned and Homer suddenly dissolved and vanished.

"Homie!" she screamed.

----

to be continued


	2. Chapter 2

"Whoa, calm down!" said Flanders with a friendly grin. "A little fender-benderoonie isn't worth getting your knickers in a knot. Now take a deep breath and count to…"

Homer began to glance around in astonishment. "Marge?" he muttered. "Kids?"

"What's the matter?" Ned inquired.

Startled, Homer hurried to the side of his ruined car. His wife and children were nowhere to be found. Maggie's baby seat lay empty.

"Where'd they go?" he wailed. "Oh, God, I've lost my family! I'm a terrible father!"

"I'm sure they're nearby," said Flanders reassuringly. "Did you check the glove compartment?"

"They can't fit in there," said Homer. "It's full of maps and crap."

The two men began to wander, looking in all directions. The shining, vibrating blob of energy towered over them in the middle of Evergreen Terrace. They realized before long that not only had Homer's family vanished, but so had all the children playing in the lawns. Two or three cars sat motionlessly in the street, emptied of occupants.

"Where the Sam Diddly is everybody?" said Flanders to no one in particular.

They knocked on a few doors, but no one answered.

Homer shook his head incredulously. "Stupid citizens. They hear a car wreck, then they all hide away so they won't have to get involved."

"I guess there's nothing to do but wait for the police to show up," said Flanders.

----

"Homer! Ned!" Marge called out, gripping Maggie tightly in her arms. "Where did you go?"

While she roamed the street in search of her husband and neighbor, Bart and Lisa stood before the mysterious energy cloud that had caused Homer to swerve out of control.

"What the hell is that thing?" Bart wondered.

"It appears to be a rupture in the fabric of time and space," Lisa theorized. "It may lead somewhere—another time, another planet, perhaps even another dimension."

"Maybe it sucked in Homer and Flanders," Bart suggested.

"There's one way to find out," said Lisa.

She swallowed. Summoning her courage, she took one slow step, then another. Bart watched breathlessly as his sister was absorbed by the glowing white mass until she completely disappeared.

"Well?" he asked. "Does it lead anywhere?"

"Yes," came Lisa's voice. "To the other side."

----

Homer and Flanders met at the accident site after having walked ten blocks in either direction. "See anything?" Homer inquired.

"Nope," Flanders answered. "Just empty cars all along Route 401."

"All the shops downtown are abandoned," said Homer. "I don't know what could have happened, unless the economy crashed and everybody moved away."

An expression of abject terror formed on Ned's face.

"What is it?"

"It's the rapture," said Flanders, fighting to choke out words. "God has taken the righteous into heaven in preparation for the battle of Armageddon. Did you see any neatly folded piles of clothing?"

"Don't be ridiculous," Homer chided the frantic man. "I stopped by Moe's, and no one was there either. But the beer was still cold."

Flanders plunged to his knees in despair. "Oh, God, what did I do wrong? Why did you take Moe and not me? Wasn't I a good father to the boys? Didn't I light a candle for Maude every night? Didn't I say no to the Mormons every time they knocked on my door?"

"Snap out of it!" cried Homer, shaking Flanders by the collar.

"We're done for," the religious man mumbled. "We're done-diddly-done for. We're done-diddly-doodly-iddly…"

His patience exhausted, Homer tried to bring Flanders out of his delirium with a slap to the face.

"…diddly…"

Another slap.

Flanders sighed and became lucid. "Thanks, Homer. I needed…"

Another slap.

"I'm okay now, Homer."

"I'll say when you're okay!" Slap.

"Gosh diddly darn it!" exclaimed Flanders, backing away. "Oh, me and my temper."

"The police should have shown up by now," Homer remarked. "Or at least a few lawyers."

"I'd call them myself," said Flanders, "but my cell phone's kaput. Pay phones are dead too."

Homer's eyes widened. "No phones, no police, no lawyers…it's like society's breaking down! I want society back! Well, except for the lawyers."

"We could drive to another town and get help," Flanders proposed. "Shelbyville, maybe."

"No way!" Homer protested. "Not Shelbyville! I can just hear it now. 'Ha, ha! We have people and you don't!'"

"Then again, maybe we should stay right here," said Flanders. "Because I think this big blob-like whatchamajigger…"

"It's an interdimensional rift."

"How do you know?"

"Two years ago I pushed the wrong button and created one. It sucked in a bunch of NRC inspectors. Mr. Burns gave me a raise."

"Maybe this inter-whatchamawhatever thingamabob sucked up all the people," Flanders hypothesized.

"Or maybe it sucked _us_ up," Homer pondered. "No, that can't be right. Because we're still here."

----

"Ned got out of his car, and they started arguing," Marge recounted to Chief Wiggum. "Then they just disappeared into thin air."

"And what happened after they disappeared, Mrs. Simpson?" asked the chief as he jotted down notes.

"Nothing. They stayed disappeared."

"It's like a big donut hole," said Eddie the cop, gazing up at the misty blob.

"What makes you say that?" asked his partner, Lou.

"You can see it, and you know it's there, but if you try to touch it, your finger goes right through."

"That's very profound."

----

An hour passed. Homer and Flanders saw no evidence of human activity other than their own, which wasn't much.

"I'm tired of waiting," grumbled Homer, rising up from the curb. "Let's go."

"We can't," said Flanders.

"Why not?"

"Because if we want to get out of this predicament, we need help. And I've got a feeling help will come through that big shiny blobbish whatchamadiddly."

Homer sat down. They continued to wait. The clouds drifted aimlessly through the summer sky.

"We haven't even seen any animals," Homer remarked.

"Or birds," said Flanders.

"I wish I had a kitty right now," Homer moaned.

----

"Look!" exclaimed Lisa, pointing. "It's Professor Frink!"

The bespectacled scientist arrived in a sedan with a megaphone attached to the top. "Step away from the interdimensional rift!" he commanded over the speakers.

The police officers and Simpsons complied, retreating to the sidewalk. Frink left his vehicle and began to circle the disturbance, analyzing it with scientific gadgets and humming to himself.

Finally he stopped. "Holy mother of glavin!" he exclaimed in wonder.

"What did you find?" asked Lisa.

The professor raised his glasses so that the Simpsons could see his beady red eyes.

"It's alive…"

----

to be continued


	3. Chapter 3

"So he said to me, 'It's impossible to prove that Christianity is true. Someone would have to live forever, and it would take forever to live forever. How do you get around that?' And I said to him, 'You're on your way to hell.' I guess that answered his question, because he had nothing else to say."

Two more hours had passed, and Homer was becoming increasingly bored with Ned's stories.

"I'm thirsty," he complained. "I could sure use a Duff."

"I could use something too," Flanders admitted.

"There's nobody at the Kwik-E-Mart," said Homer. "If I went in and got a six-pack without paying for it, would that be stealing?"

"Yes," said Flanders without hesitation.

"Even if we're the only people left on Earth?"

"Yes."

Homer thought for a moment. "Adam and Eve didn't have to pay for all the fruit they ate," he observed.

"That's different," said Flanders. "God commanded them to eat the fruit—except for the forbidden fruit. I guess He was saving that for Himself."

"What if we really are the last people on Earth?" Homer mused darkly.

"Then it's the end of everything," Flanders reflected.

"There's gotta be somebody left besides us," said Homer, standing up. "Come on, Flanders, let's go."

"We can't."

"Why not?"

"We're waiting for someone to come through the blobby wavy thingamawhatsit and help us."

"For the last time," Homer snapped, "it's an interdimensional rift! Get it right, Flanders!"

He sat down, and they both sighed.

"Even if there are other humans left," said Flanders, "how will we survive? There are no birds, no insects. The ecosystem's been thrown out of balance."

"We'll be all right as long as the beer stays cold," said Homer.

----

"It's definitely sentient," said Professor Frink, glancing over the display panel on his scientific instrument. "It appears to be the projection of a hyperdimensional being into our three-dimensional space."

"In English," Bart requested.

"That _was_ English," Lisa chided him. "Yeesh! Get a language."

"If it's intelligent," said Marge, "then maybe we can talk to it, and find out what happened to my Homie."

"Exactly what I was thinking," Frink agreed. Walking up to the surface of the eerie cloud, he said, "Ng'hoy. I am Professor John Frink of the planet Earth, in the Milky Way galaxy, in the dimension known as…our dimension. Please identify yourself."

Silence poured forth from the blob.

"Allow me to make a universal gesture of peace and good will," said Bart as he bent over and prepared to drop his pants.

"No, don't offend it," Frink warned him. "If it becomes angry, it may grow larger, and possibly devour the entire planet."

"Maybe Homer said something to offend it," Marge suggested. "He was having a pretty heated argument."

"What was the last thing Homer said before he disappeared?" asked Frink.

Marge scratched her chin. "Hmm…let's see…"

----

Another hour passed. The sun was beginning to set.

"I'm hungry," said Homer's stomach.

"I'm hungry too," said Homer's brain.

"For once we're all in agreement," said Homer. "Come on, Flanders, let's go rustle up some grub."

"But we can't leave," Ned insisted. "Someone could come through the rift at any moment."

"We don't want to be dead of starvation when they get here," Homer groused.

As they sat on the curb in bored silence, two female voices wafted through the semi-darkness into their ears.

"Did you hear that?" said Flanders. "Women! We're not alone! The human race won't become extinct!"

"One of them better be Marge," said Homer peevishly.

"You're close," came a gruff woman's voice.

"Oh, no…" groaned Homer. Patty and Selma were strolling along the street toward him, smoking profusely.

"Good news and bad news," Selma told Patty. "There are two men left on the planet, but one of them's Homer."

"You can have the one with the moustache," Patty responded. "I just decided I'm gay."

"Just when I thought it couldn't get any worse," Homer lamented. "This is like being in hell."

"I'll say," said Patty. "There's only one other woman on Earth, and she's straight."

"Maybe you're right, Homer," said Flanders darkly. "Maybe we are in hell."

"Stupid hell!" Homer bellowed. "I hate hell! I want to go home! HOME!"

----

Marge's face lit up. "I remember. The last thing he said was, 'You and Patty and Selma are trying to make my life hell.'"

While Frink reflected on her statement, Homer materialized on the street before him, arms raised in a pose of despair.

"Homie!" exclaimed Marge, running into his arms.

"I'm back," Homer exulted. "I thought I'd never see you again."

"Dad!" cried Bart and Lisa, hurrying to embrace him.

"Where were you?" asked Marge between eager kisses.

"I was in an awful, terrible place," Homer replied. "A place where you kids will end up if you don't go to church every Sunday."

"Where's Ned?" Marge wanted to know.

Homer looked about. "Huh? He didn't come back with me?"

Marge and the kids searched the block with their eyes, but saw no sign of Flanders.

"Wait a minute," Homer said to his wife. "Maybe that wasn't really him. My idea of hell is being alone forever with Flanders and your sisters, but maybe his idea of hell is something else."

----

Ned Flanders stood wearing nothing but his glasses in the midst of a roaring fire, his ankles chained to a nearby cavern wall. All around him, similarly undressed people were shrieking in agony as the flames seared them to the bone.

"More brimstone, Ned?" offered Satan as he strolled past with a huge, steaming bag under one arm.

"I've got plenty, thanks," said Flanders with a grin, but the Evil One emptied his entire load on the man nonetheless. "Ooch! Dumb diddly devil."

----

THE END


End file.
